


A Crushed Heart

by Izzyfandoms, MagicQuill42



Series: Blood Guts and Gore [3]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Blood and Gore, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lamp - Freeform, M/M, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 18:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20140075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzyfandoms/pseuds/Izzyfandoms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicQuill42/pseuds/MagicQuill42
Summary: (ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL)Twelve years prior to A Dozen Years Of Blood, Roman commits his first murder, an act of revenge against the man who killed his mother.AKARoman had been awaiting this moment since he was sixteen years old. He'd never dreamt he'd get so lucky. Meeting the loves of his life certainly didn't hurt either.





	A Crushed Heart

Roman ducked down in an alleyway, staring up at the large office building that towered above him, one gloved hand tightening around his pistol, the other perched on the sheathed sword that hung by his hip.

The sun had set hours ago and the sky was full of clouds, blocking the moon. The only thing illuminating the area was the orange-yellow glow of the streetlamps. Fortunately, the streets were almost empty, and there were very few people left in the building beside him: his target and the obstacles he’d have to cut down to get to him. He’d stashed a backpack behind a dumpster, ready to be grabbed when the deed was one.

He glanced around quickly, double checking that no one was close enough to watch him, before looking forward again, eyes glued to the large metal door that stood between him and the stairwell that would lead him right up to his prey. Roman leaned forward, moving his hand from his sword to his pocket, pulling out his lock-picking tools and taking only a few more minutes to open the door, slipping inside and silently shutting it behind him with an unreadable blank expression on his face. This door could be easily opened from the inside, as it was a fire exit, but was almost permanently locked from the outside, for the safety of those working inside.

Roman needed to work quickly, and then escape the same way he got in, or he risked getting caught, or worse: failing to eliminate his target.

However, before he could even begin ascending the slightly-rusty metal staircase – up to the fourth floor, where Max Carlyle worked – he heard two voices descending from the floor above, getting closer and closer with every passing moment.

“Okay, but, like… why can’t we just leave through the main entrance? This staircase’s kinda gross and aren’t we only supposed to use it as a fire exit?” One male voice whined, he sounded young, was he an intern? Tough luck.

The other voice scoffed. “This way’s quicker, kid, don’t you wanna get a few drinks before the bar closes?”

“But… but I’m too- I’m not quite 21 yet, and-”

“Well, you got a fake ID, don’t you? Just use that, I’ll vouch for you.”

Roman ducked down, beside the flight of stairs, only just out of sight as the other two men stepped around the corner and into his line of vision, both now only a few steps away from him, rapidly approaching the front door. The first speaker looked to be about 19 or 20, with dark hair and nervous eyes, and the second speaker looked to be in his forties, with blond hair and an unkempt beard.

“Are… are you sure? What if we get caught?” The younger man crossed his arms, stepping off the final stair and stopping in front of the door.

“Pshh, I do this with all the new interns, we’ll only get caught if you’re a dumbass.”

The older man reached for the door handle, but was stopped by Roman pouncing silently, driving his sword through the back of the man’s throat. He pulled it out with a squelch, letting the man fall to the floor, convulsing violently as the blood splattered out, staining Roman’s clothes and spilling onto the floor. Before the intern could even scream, his throat was slit, and he too collapsed to the ground.

“I apologise.” He said, more for himself than for the corpses. “But I’ve worked and trained for years, waiting for this opportunity. My goal is noble, I assure you. Your deaths are not for nothing.”

And, with that, he turned on his heel and began to make his way up the stairs as silently as possible, reaching the fourth floor in only a matter of minutes.

Roman quickly tested the door handle, letting out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that it was unlocked, before leaning forward and pressing his ear against the door. The other side appeared to be silent, so he slowly pushed the door open, slipping inside.

“Oh my _god_, Jill, you’re being, like, such a slut right now. You know that, right? And that story was, like, _so _long, you wouldn’t even let me interrupt. You’re lucky I didn’t fall asleep halfway through!”

Roman suppressed a scowl. He was a few feet away from the main desk, and the secretary was sitting right at it, her feet up on the desk and her phone in her hand as she faced forward, towards the floor’s main entrance, her back to him. He hadn’t heard her through the door, but that was presumably just because she’d been on the phone with her friend.

“Are you, like, serious? Seriously serious?” The secretary paused for a moment. “Damn, I need me a man like that. If he wasn’t gay, I’d seduce the fuck out of him. You know what, I’ll _still _seduce the fuck out of him. I’ll turn him straight, I’m _that_ good.”

This was getting old.

Before she could say another word, Roman swiftly moved forward, grabbing her phone, hanging up, and slitting her throat within moments, before she could react. He waited a few moments for her to bleed out, before pulling her corpse into his arms and crouching down, tucking her under the desk and out of sight, just to minimize the risk of her body being spotted and the cops being called.

Once that was dealt with, he turned and began to stride towards a hallway on the other side of the room. He’d memorised the layout of this particular floor and knew exactly where the office of Max Carlyle – the head of the company – was.

Roman turned a corner, stabbing two more workers whose backs were turned, splattering his hoodie and trousers with warm red blood. His reaction to that was barely more than a slight grimace.

He turned another two corners, killing three more people – a cleaner, an office worker and a security guard – before pausing. Right at the end of the very next corridor was the head office – always guarded by at least two guards at a time – and inside lay his prey, in the middle of a meeting with the head of another, similar, company. They were discussing merging businesses, or at least that’s what was written on the schedule Roman had managed to get his hands on.

Roman pressed his back against the wall, inches away from the corner, straining to hear the guards’ quiet conversation.

“Did you catch the game last night?”

There was a pause.

“Ryan, you know I don’t watch sports.”

The first guard sighed. “Okay… do you know if your wife watched it at least?”

“Probably, I don’t know.”

“Well, did she enjoy it? Did she tell you what she thought about what happened in the second half?”

There was another pause.

“Ryan, I swear to god, you know I never understand her when she talks sports to me. I have no clue what her thoughts were. We’re having lunch together Sunday, remember? Just ask her then.”

These two probably had guns on them, and they were far enough away from him to spot him and have the time to use them (unlike the guard he’d taken out earlier). They were obviously still oblivious to the massacre that had just occurred, and of the fact that Roman planned to add them to his array of corpses.

Roman sighed, sheathing his sword and taking out his pistol. He didn’t want it to have to come to this, as guns were loud and inelegant, but it seemed he had no choice.

Before the security guards could react, he spun around the corner, shooting them both in the head and watching their bodies fall to the floor. He’d trained and practised his aim with a gun almost as much as he had with a sword, and that was saying something, since he’d been training for almost nine years now.

He sprinted forward, kicking the office door open and aiming the gun at the two men standing inside. They’d obviously heard the previous two gunshots, and had jumped up in response, but they fortunately hadn’t yet had time to reach their phones and call for help.

“Hands in the air.” Roman ordered, unable to keep his absolute disgust and anger from his voice as he stared at the man behind the desk.

Max Carlyle. His mother’s killer.

Without a second thought, Roman shot the other man in the head, before turning his aim back on Max, his expression twisting into a venomous glare – a snarl forming in the back of his throat.

“Max Carlyle.” He growled.

“P-please… don’t kill me! I’m begging you, take anything you want, just don’t kill me! Have mercy, please!”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Have mercy?” He scoffed. “Like how you had mercy on my mother… when you _killed _her?”

Max’s eyes widened. “Wh- what? What are you saying? I’ve never killed anyone, I swear! You… you’ve got the wrong guy! Please, just let me go!”

Luckily for Roman, there were no security cameras in this office – Max Carlyle liked his privacy. He took one hand off the gun (he could still shoot with just the one hand, it barely affected his aim) and pulled down his hood, taking off his mask and stuffing it into his pocket. Max’s eyes widened even further, but this time in recognition.

“Mr. Aldrich!”

Roman raised one eyebrow, he hadn’t expected the man to remember his name, but given the amount of times Roman had tried to sue him or have him arrested, he supposed it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.

“I… I swear, I wasn’t the one who killed Delfina!” Roman hissed when the man spoke her name. “The cops couldn’t find any evidence against me, remember? They arrested someone else!”

Roman scowled. “We both know you paid them off. You don’t need to keep lying.”

“What? No… no, I-”

“Shut up!” Roman shouted, moving forward and pressing the barrel of the gun against Max Carlyle’s forehead. “I’m sick of all your fucking _lies_. You used to harass her every day at the bar, you wouldn’t leave her alone!”

Max went silent, shaking in terror, and Roman continued.

“She worked three jobs, you know, just to make ends meet. It was just me and her, she didn’t even want to work at that filthy bar, but she didn’t have a choice! She had to work there to make enough money to take care of me!”

He pressed the gun harder against the man’s head.

“I was only fifteen.” Roman hissed, leaning closer. “I was only fifteen when you dragged her into that alleyway, raped her and killed her. You ended her life, and you ruined mine. That’s why you’re going to pay. That’s why you’re going to _die._”

Roman then pulled the gun away, putting it back into its holster, and- despite everything that was just said- Max let out a futile sigh of relief.

Then, Roman unsheathed the sword, and Max’s eyes widened in fear. It was already splattered with blood, and his was soon to join the collection. Roman stepped back, before plunging the blade into his victim’s stomach.

Max fell back with a scream, and Roman stepped around the desk, lifting his foot and pressing the tip of his boot against the wound, a blank expression on his face.

“This is what you deserve.”

He lifted his sword again, plunging it into the writhing and screaming man’s chest. He does this again and again and again and again, until Max Carlyle was nothing more than a mangled mess on the floor.

Roman’s now coated in blood and pieces of flesh and organs, but he can’t find it in himself to care about that. The only reason he even stopped stabbing the corpse was that he knew he needed to escape, and the longer he waited around, the less time he’d have to run. No security guards had come running to investigate, so he assumed the information he’d gathered about most of the other floors being empty was correct.

He stared at the body for a few more moments, before turning on his heel and walking out the room.

Roman soon realised that he was tracking bloody footprints all over the carpet, so he took off his boots and tucked them under his arm, careful to avoid getting blood on his socks. He had spare shoes and clothes in the backpack he’d stashed in the alleyway, and he was planning on burning all of these anyway.

It only took a few minutes for him to run out of the building and change clothes in the alleyway (though keeping his mask on for now), shoving the bloodstained garments and weapons into his backpack.

As soon as he got home, he threw up in a trashcan, but, when he got up again, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he was grinning manically.

He’d done it, he’d finally done it.

He’d finally avenged his mother’s death... and, _damn_, it felt good.

**********

Roman sauntered into the police department, feeling a little smug. Sue him. It’d been a few weeks since he’d killed twelve people, and so far he’d gotten away with it. And when the police department did call him, it was as a witness for some bank robbery. The way he saw it, he could either be panicking or have a little extra swagger. 

It was an easy decision, he was obviously gonna pick swagger.

He walked over to the desk, tapping his fingers against it when he realized no one was there. He was debating ringing the bell when he heard a voice.

“Just a moment!” A cheerful voice called out. “I’ll be right there.”

Before long, someone rounded the corner. And he had to be the cutest man Roman had ever seen. He was round and soft-looking, seemingly built to be hugged, with arms perfectly shaped to hug back. He also wore a pair of large round glasses, that made him look slightly owl-ish, and even more adorable.

Mr. Adorable sat at the secretary's desk and gave Roman a smile made of golden sunshine.

“How can I help ya, kiddo?” He asked, mood seemingly untouched by the mundanities of life. 

Roman gave the man his most charming smile. “My name is Roman Aldrich. I was called in as a witness?”

The man smiled again and turned to tap at his computer for a few moments, humming softly to himself. 

“Ah!” He exclaimed, looking back at Roman. “Here you are! Looks like officers Berry and Cessair are gonna be working with you today. You’ll need to go to the second floor, fourth hallway, and the first door on the left. If you get lost just ask someone for Room I. They’ll help ya.”

Roman reached over and grasped the man’s hand as suavely as he could manage without knocking over a nearby coffee cup.

“Thank you ever so much,” He said, making his voice just a smidge rougher, adding in a wink at the end.

The secretary squeaked, his face reddening. “N-No- No problem!”

Roman grinned widely at him, before heading on his way. He was getting that boy’s number before he left even if it ki- okay, well, maybe not if it _killed_ him. But he wanted that number!

A few minutes later, he found himself wandering around the maze-like halls of the police station, having gotten himself lost a lot quicker than expected.

As it turned out, Room I was a great deal harder to find than Roman had initially thought. The precinct was just a mess of hallways and doors and he’d been too gay to actually let the directions stick into his brain. Silly little cute receptionist, didn’t he know Roman was too homosexual to take any instructions from someone as beautiful as him? That should have been obvious.

Cute boys aside, it was time to put his pride on the bench and actually ask for directions. He stopped a young woman who pointed him roughly in the right direction. Turns out he was two hallways too south. Whoops. 

He reoriented, walking down the right hallway, only to get smacked in the face with his own gay again. 

Standing outside a door labelled “I” were two devastatingly handsome young men. Was he being tested? Why did every man he ran into today have to be so damn _attractive_?

The taller of the two redefined emo, with his dark hair falling in front of his face and darker eyeshadow forming eyebags that would have made Gucci run for cover. He was talking softly with a man who, if he hadn’t been moving, Roman would have mistaken for being made of marble, due to how exquisite and poised he looked. He- like the receptionist- wore glasses, though his were rectangular and sharp, only adding to how refined he looked.

Roman took a deep breath, charming smile settling back onto his face as he walked over (and if his hips were swinging a little… well… he felt it was justified).

He reached them and extended a hand. “Roman Aldrich. I believe I have an interrogation here?”

The two regarded him (the emo one gave him elevator eyes that made Roman smirk a little) and the marble-carved man accepted his handshake. 

“Yes, we’re meeting you just here,” He said smoothly. “My name is Officer Berry, and this is my partner, Officer Cessair.”

The e- Cessair gave him a casual, two-fingered salute and a nod. 

“I wish to inform you that this is merely routine and policy,” Berry explained, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve been told that coming in for statements often scares civilians but rest assured that we’ve currently no reason to believe you were involved in the robbery.”

Roman laughed a little at that – if only they knew the things he’d done. “Now, why would I be scared about two strong men like you taking me into a little dark room? If anything, that’s a daydream come true.”

Cessair turned a bright shade of red and coughed. “Unfortunately, that’s not what we’ve got in mind, Mr. Aldrich. Now if you could step inside, please? We have some questions to ask you.”

Roman grinned at the ‘unfortunately’, before nodding gracefully and stepping inside, seating himself in the hard, plastic chair with all the dignity befitting a prince. The door shutting behind him was a surprise, but if the voices he heard outside were any indication, they were talking about him. 

He’d be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel a little smug. 

When the door opened, the emo Cessair was no longer blushing, which was a bit of a disappointment, honestly. Red looked pretty on him. 

They sat in chairs across from him, Berry pulling a file out of nowhere and laying it on the table. Cessair, similarly, pulled out a notebook and pencil. 

“So,” Berry started, looking over the file. “You saw the robbery take place from across the street. Is that correct?”

Roman nodded. “Indeed. I was on my way to get coffee before work when I saw three men storming into the building. They were dressed in all black-” He cuts himself off, giving Cessair elevator eyes and winking. “Though they didn’t look as good in it as you.”

Cessair went pink again and Berry cleared his throat. “Focus, please?”

“On you?” Roman smirked. “_Gladly._”

Berry cleared his throat again, looking down and sifting through the file, likely pretending his ears weren’t going red. 

“Can you describe the men you saw entering the building in any greater detail?”

Roman sighed a little, thinking for a moment or two. “No, not really. All I really took notice of was that one of them was rather broad chested. Which, of course, I only noticed bec-”

“Please,” Cessair interrupted. “Don’t be gay over the criminals we’re chasing.”

Roman rolled his eyes a little. “I wasn’t going to! They are very clearly beneath me. I must prefer men of the law.” He let his voice dip into a purr on the last word before continuing. “No, I only noticed his chest was broad because they were all wearing what looked like the same size shoulder holsters and it looked like his was two sizes too small.”

Berry made a note of that before looking back up at Roman. “Is there anything else you remember? Anything at all. Even the most innocuous detail would be very helpful.” 

Roman racked his brain, not wanting to disappoint the two very pretty cops. “Um… well, they left in a big red van. I didn’t see the license plate number, but I remember that it was red and had… maybe eight seats?”

Berry nodded again, more eagerly this time and wrote that down. Without saying another word to Roman, he shot up and ran right out of the room, a manic grin spreading on his previously stern face.

Roman blinked after him and Cessair sighed. 

“Sorry about him.” He said. “He gets really into it and forgets to be a person sometimes.” Cessair cracked a smile. “But he wouldn’t have run out of here if you weren’t a big help so… thanks.”

Roman felt his heart stutter at that crooked little smile. He rose, extending his hand for a shake. 

“My pleasure, I assure you,” He said, proud that his voice didn’t stutter like his pulse. “We should do lunch sometime. Or coffee if that works.”

Cessair blushed again and hunched his shoulders. “I, um… I’m kind of… not single.”

Roman blinked in surprise. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t!” Cessair hurriedly interjected. “I mean- um. It’s kind of complicated, but… I’m poly? Er- Me and my boyfriends are. I am interested in getting coffee with you or something, but it didn’t seem fair to not let you know so… yeah.”

Roman couldn’t help but let out a snort. “You… are adorable.”

Cessair gave him a mildly offended look. “Excuse me?”

“Cute,” Roman clarifies. “Too cute. I’m poly too, Officer Cessair. That’s why I was flirting with both of you. And the secretary out front.” 

“Patton?” The officer asked. “Oh, he's my other boyfriend. Uh… I can ask if he wants to come too?”

Roman chuckled. “I’m fine either way. Bring both boyfriends, bring your partner, bring just your pretty, emo self. I don’t mind as long as you show up.” He grinned flirtatiously.

Cessair blushed some more, but this time he smiled as he did and, _oh_, Roman would melt his sword for that smile. He’d burn every draft he ever wrote and turn in his pen just to see it.

That may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but Cessair’s smile really was a thing of beauty.

“Okay,” Cessair said, sounding shy and soft. “Here, gimme your number and we’ll work out details. Does Friday sound okay?”

Roman nodded, taking out his phone and passing it over. “Friday sounds magical.”

Cessair nodded again and gives Roman back his phone, the contact reading “Virgil Cessair (Cop Guy.)” Roman immediately changed it to “Virgil <3.” 

“Alrighty!” He said cheerfully, jumping up. “See you then, cutie.”

He waltzed back down the hallway, feeling like he was walking on air. _He had a date on Friday!_

***

This whole dating thing, it turned out, was easier in concept than it was in execution. In his head, Roman could see it all perfectly! He’d be at the coffee shop, five o’clock sharp, dressed in his best outfit. Virgil would arrive a bit later, be as stunned by Roman’s appearance as he was, himself, stunning, and they would walk in, possibly accompanied by Virgil’s other boyfriends. They would get coffee, chat, fall madly in love, and agree to start dating. It was all so simple!

If only Roman could _find_ his best outfit. He had the white skinny jeans, the red scarf to drape enticingly, and the golden v-neck tee. But he could not, for the _life of him_, find his stupid, perfect, white leather jacket. It was the only thing he had that tied the outfit together and it had the absolute _gall_ to go missing!

If it wasn’t the perfect thing to wear to a perfect first date, Roman would give up and never wear it again out of anger. However, it was both perfect and nowhere to be found so it looked like he was out of luck. 

Roman was nothing if not stubborn, though. He kept looking, pausing when his hand brushed cold steel.

His sword…

Virgil was a cop. So was that Berry fellow he’d been flirting with…

They were cute enough to be worth it, though. Besides, it was pretty unlikely they’d ever find out and, even if they did, it was even less likely that they’d still be in a relationship if they did! Of course, Roman would like to be in a relationship with Virgil – with both of them – for a long time if he could… 

Which would happen if he could just find his jacket! 

He let out a growl of frustration just before his eyes landed on a sliver of white leather. He hooked a finger around it and yanked out the jacket, almost crying in relief. He looked up at the ceiling. 

“I don’t know if you’re really up there,” He said. “But if you are, thank you mister Shakespeare.”

Roman tossed the jacket onto his pile of clothes and changed quickly. He glanced at his vanity while changing and, after a moment’s thought, smeared gold eyeshadow on. 

This was a first date, after all. Best features forward. 

Satisfied, he shoved his wallet into his pocket and breezed out the door. A smile slowly grew on his face as reality set in. 

_He had a date!_

***

The café itself wasn’t difficult to find. The harder part ended up being what he was supposed to do now that he’d arrived. Turns out that in his eagerness… he’d arrived twenty minutes early. 

He scanned the small coffee shop for his knight in obsidian armour, unsurprised to not see him there yet. He pulled out his phone instead. 

**Ro:** Heyyy! So I may or may have not gotten here a bit early. No rush, just letting you know. 

**Ro:** Also

**Ro:** I’m gonna grab us a table and drinks. Might I have your order(s?) ;)

**Virge <3:** asdfghjlk 

**Virge <3:** theres getting somewhere early

**Virge <3:** and then theres u

**Ro: **What can I say? I /pride/ myself in punctuality!

**Ro:** Happy June btw ;P

**Virge <3: **mhm 

**Ro: **:P

**Ro:** So what’s your order?

**Virge <3: **idk… it’s a little pricy for one person 

**Ro:** PLEASE! Allow me to put the pricy in Princey Charming!

**Virge <3: **…

**Virge <3:** i dont think that makes sense

**Ro: **shhhh Just embrace it. 

**Virge <3:** lol okay

**Virge <3: **i guess I’ll let you have it then dork

**Virge <3 :** a large mocha with extra chocolate and whip, a medium London fog, and a medium hot chocolate please

**Ro: **WOW 

**Ro: **Is that all for you or are your lovely boyfriends joining us? 

**Virge <3: **yea theyre coming

**Virge <3:** hope thats still okay?

**Ro: **Of course! The more the merrier. ;) <3<3

Roman closed his phone with a smile. He really did mean it when he said that. Especially knowing that bubbly, adorable secretary was one of Virgil’s boyfriends. 

He ordered the drinks, as well as a large caramel macchiato, heavy foam, extra whip, extra caramel for himself. Drink tray in hand, he seated himself in a cozy booth, right next to the window but under the fairy lights. Perfectly romantic, but still affording him a full view of the cafe, as well as the window. There’s no way he’d possibly miss them! He hoped…

He needn't have worried, really. Ten minutes later he heard Virgil call out his name. What he _should _have worried about was his ability to hold any oxygen after catching sight of the three of them. 

Virgil alone was breathtaking. He was clad in a short, purple and black pleated skirt, a tight-fitting purple tank that honestly just wasn’t fair, and under a black but sheer cold-shouldered shirt, all gathered under the purple hoodie tied around his waist. And if Roman thought his gold eyeshadow was good? Virgil’s bold, black smoky eyes blew it out of the water.

And the boyfriends? Patton in a flowing, pale blue skirt that moved like liquid around his knees and made Roman shiver with longing, Officer Berry’s broad shoulders wrapped in sensible blue plaid that was just baggy enough to count as a sort of jacket and show the baseball tee beneath, almost as if he’d studied how to dress casually… Roman was suddenly glad he was sitting down because the combined forces of these attractive men made his knees weak.

He took a deep breath to settle his insides and waved at them. Virgil smiled and the three headed over to him. They scooted into the booth, Virgil sitting next to Roman and his boyfriends sitting across from them. 

“I thought it’d be easier if you could pretend this is a double date,” Virgil explained. “That way it’s less intimidating.”

“Intimi-_date_-ing, Virge?” Patton giggled.

Virgil snorted. Officer Berry looked almost offended. The sight of both made Roman want to blow all his money on bouquets for them. 

“So anyway,” Virgil said, grabbing the drinks and starting to pass them out. “Thanks for getting these.”

“My pleasure!” Roman said. “Though I must admit, I didn't expect the hot chocolate to be for you.”

Virgil shrugs, taking a sip of it. “Caffeine makes me too jittery, and the tea here always tastes weak. So, hot chocolate.”

Roman hummed with a nod. “Makes sense. So! The two of you know me, sort of. But allow me to introduce myself anyway. My name is Roman Aldrich, aspiring author, part-time service industry worker, and full-time flaming homosexual. It is a pleasure to meet the three of you here today.”

Patton giggled again and held out a hand, which Roman took and shook.

“I’m Patton Sanders!” He said cheerfully. “I’m just the secretary at the police department, but my true passion is being a pan-tastic baker!”

Officer Berry held out a hand too. “Logan Berry. I am homoromantic and asexual, and while Virgil and I are only officers at the moment, I hope that we are able to make detective someday.”

Roman smiled. “Well, it is delightful to see you all again.”

They smiled back and Logan took a sip of his London fog. “I believe it will be pleasant, yes. You said you were a writer?” 

Roman nodded. 

“What do you write?”

Roman laughed awkwardly. “Yes, well… that would be the ‘aspiring’ part. I’ve tried a whole bunch of different styles but none of them have really _clicked_ just yet. I have a lot of ideas… and not a lot of ways to carry them out.”

Virgil gave his arm a sympathetic part. “You’ll find it someday, buddy.”

“I hope so,” Roman chuckles. “Right now, I’m working on a murder mystery novel, but I don’t expect it to go anywhere.”

Patton beamed. “I’m sure it’ll work out just fine, kiddo!”

“I’d love to sample your work some time.” Logan said. “I wouldn’t even mind editing it for you, if desired.” 

Roman blinked at him, smile slowly spreading into a grin. “That would be amazing.” He coughed and shifted a little. “So, what are some hobbies of yours?”

“Well, like I said, I _love _baking,” Patton laughed. “There’s nothing like making something right from the heart and giving it to the people you love. Experimenting until you find their favourites and finding just the right mixture to make them crumb-le in happiness.”

Logan smiled at Patton fondly, catching his hand in his own. “Personally, I enjoy studying the stars. There is infinite joy to be found in the never-ending cosmos and we are only just beginning to understand it.”

Virgil shivered a little, Roman catching the sight of goosebumps forming on his arms. 

“L, I was feeling good today, babe.” Virgil said. 

“Apologies,” Logan winced. “I forgot.”

“No existentialism at the table,” Patton explained to Roman in a stage whisper. “Which kinda includes talking about the never-ending void of space. Even if it sounds pretty.”

“Pretty dangerous.” Virgil said. “Space can kill you in a million different ways, each one more painful than the last.”

“Yes, but think about if it didn’t,” Roman says gently. “Soaring among the stars and setting yourself free with only stardust behind you. Free of any worries as you float among planets and asteroids, letting everything fade as the stars embrace you as their own.”

The other three look at him, awed. 

“That’s beautiful…” Patton said softly.

“Dude if you write words half as good as you talk them, you’re gonna get published in no time.”

Roman laughed, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks. “Well… Here’s hoping.”

The rest of the date went well, the four of them talking until their drinks went cold, then going for a walk in the town square before they finally called it a night. Roman drove all three of them to their homes like a true gentleman before going back to his own place and collapsing into bed happily. 

***

That date led to another… and another and another and another and another until Roman and his three boyfriends had been dating for almost two years now.

He hadn’t thought much of it when Logan said he had a presentation for them, since he’d lately shown a lot of little slideshows of whatever caught his interest. What was surprising was that the slideshow had been about them this time. And that Logan, stoic, beautiful, bad with emotions Logan, started shaking halfway through it. By the last slide he had lost his composure altogether and crumpled into them, holding out a velvet box with three rings inside it.

And suddenly Roman didn’t have boyfriends anymore. He had _fiancés_. 

***

Roman’s book had taken off! A Dozen Years of Blood was selling like hotcakes and people couldn’t seem to get enough of Cori and Co. And outside the world of business, he had three beautiful men whom he was set to marry within the next year. Life was going well! 

After the latest sales update from his publisher, Roman decided to go out to a bar and celebrate a little. He had thought about asking one of his fiancés to come, but ultimately decided against it. If he got more drunk than he meant to, it would mean less people to blackmail him and make an anecdote for the wedding. 

Luckily, Roman did know his limits. He only had one drink before his eyes snagged on a couple across the room. 

They looked like a typical heterosexual couple, an average man and an average woman (not that Roman would know.) But the longer that Roman watched the more unsettled he became. The man was practically breathing down the lady’s shirt, despite her every attempt to get away from him. She looked desperate and uncomfortable and… scared.

Roman watched as the man slipped something into the lady’s drink when she wasn’t looking, then even going so far as to lift it to her lips and feed it to her in what he undoubtedly thought was a sexy way.

_“That’s my mother,”_ Roman thought, the words hitting him like a dull knife. _“That happened to her. It’s happening again.”_

Until his dying day, Roman would never be sure if it was the alcohol, the righteous anger, or some dark, twisted part of him that took the next step. The step that redirected the course of his life. He’s equally unsure if it matters, in the end.

But that man was through the end of his sword by the next morning. 


End file.
